
Class _rHS_5X5.a 
Book ^^ a 



()opyiightl^?__ 



\<^\o 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



SABLE AND PURPLE 



By the Same Author 

POEMS 

NEW POEMS 
SELECTED POEMS 



SABLE AND PURPLE 

WITH OTHER POEMS 

BY 

WILLIAM WATSON 



NEW YORK 

JOHN LANE COMPANY 

MCMX 






.S:i 



Copyright, 19 lo, by 
John Lane Company 



THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. 



)CI,A2688'J3 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Sable and Purple 7 

King Alfred 15 

In the Midst of the Seas 31 

The Threatened Towers 45 



SABLE AND PURPLE 



SABLE AND PURPLE 

MAY 1910 



I 



I SING not Death. Death is too great a thing 
For me to dare to sing. 
I chant the human goodness, human worth, 
Which are not lost, but sweeten still the Earth ; 
The things that flee not with the upyielded 

breath. 
But, housed in sanctuary of simple hearts. 
Live undethroned when Death 
Comes to the chamber of a mighty King, 
And sheds abroad the silence of his wing, 
Then shakes his raven plumage, and departs. 



SABLE AND PURPLE 



II 



Honour the happy dead with sober praise. 
Who living would have scorned the fulsome 

phrase. 
Meet for the languorous Orient's jewelled ear. 
This was the English King, that loved the English 

ways : 
A man not too remote, or too august. 
For other mortal children of the dust 
To know and to draw near. 
Born with a nature that demanded joy. 
He took full draughts of life, nor did the vintage 

cloy ; 
But when she passed from vision, who so long 
Had sat aloft — alone — 
On the steep heights of an Imperial throne. 
Then rose he large and strong. 
Then spake his voice with new and grander tone. 
Then, called to rule the State 

lo 



SABLE AND PURPLE 

Which he had only served, 

He saw clear Duty plain, nor from that highway 

swerved. 
And, unappalled by his majestic fate. 
Pretended not to greatness, yet was great. 



II 



SABLE AND PURPLE 



III 



Sea-lover, and sea-rover, throned henceforth 

Amid the paths and passes of the sea ; 

You that have sailed, out of our stormy North, 

And have not sailed in vain. 

To all the golden shores where now You reign. 

Through every ocean gate whereof You keep the 

key : 
O may your power and your dominion stand 
Fixt on what things soever make Life fair. 
And on what things soever make men free, 
In duteous love of ordered liberty : 
So shall your praise be blown from strand to 

strand. 
Your Father lies among the Kings his kin. 
Pillowed on yonder couch of silence, where 
No wandering echo of the world's loud blare 
Profanes the awesome air. 
The age that bore us is entombed there ! 
With You the younger time is eager to begin. 
Let nations see, beneath your prospering hand, 

12 



SABLE AND PURPLE 

An Empire mighty in arms, its fleets and hosts 
Keeping far vigil round your hundred coasts — 
An Empire mighty in arms, but therewithal 
Nourished in mind, with noble thoughts made 

rich. 
And panoplied in knowledge, lacking which 
The proudest fortress is but feebly manned 
And ever trembles to its thunderous fall. 
And now to You — to Her who at your side 
Henceforward shall divide 
The all but dreadful glory of a crown — 
Be honour and felicity and renown ! 
And may the inscrutable years. 
That claim from every man their toll of tears. 
Weave for your brows a wreath that shall not 

fade — 
A chaplet and a crown divinely made 
Out of your people's love, your people's trust; 
For wanting these all else were but as dust 
In that great balance wherein Kings are weighed. 



13 



KING ALFRED 



KING ALFRED 

Alfred the Great^ in his Palace at Winchester ^ 

drawing near to his last days^ talks with 

Asser the Welshman. 

Alfred 

Asser, good bishop and well-proven friend, 
Thou find'st me changed and striken low by mine 
Infirmities; not much of warrior left; 
Here feebly sitting, pierced with many nails 
Of pain. And in my flesh there is a voice 
That telleth me my days henceforth are few. 

AssER 
Thou art not old. 

Alfred 

No son of Ethelwulf 
Grows old. Nor have I held it to be aught 
A King should murmur at, if life burn down 

17 



KING ALFRED 

Untimely, whether amid toilful peace 
Or shaken with the blast and peal of war. 
But to go hence, unsure if what I wrought 
And moulded be more lasting than the abode 
Yon swallow builds, out of a little clay. 
And lines with feathers ! 



ASSER 

King, thou hast set good trees 
In a good soil, where now with fruit they bless 
Thy planting 

Alfred 

And anon there shall return 
The Northern storm that I have stayed awhile. 
And shatter my young woods, ev'n as the old. 

AssER 

Think not so ill of ages yet to be ! 
The wicked may again wax proud, but men's 
Devices stand not, against God's resolves ; 
And that which He hath helped the just to build. 
Surely He will not help the unjust to raze. 

i8 



KING ALFRED 

Leave now to Him the Shall-be : the Hath-been, 

Behold it comely to look back upon — 

A tale of enemies mightily withstood, 

And dangers greatly wrestled with and thrown ; 

A tale told at the hearth on winter eves, 

And dear to earl and churl and thane and thrall 

For ever. 

Alfred 

Friend, I thank thee for thy word. 
It may be that my thoughts are not more hale 
Than this worn body. And most unmeet it were, 
If I, that have from God riches and power. 
Gave not at last, unto my Over- King, 
Aught but a joyless heart. Nay, go not yet. 
Here sit thou, where this wirkiow looketh out 
Upon the quiet world in which I end. 
Who lacked not stir of camps and din of arms. 
Yonder my city twinkles in the sun. 
Beneath the down : ev'n she whom those dim 

minds 
In shining mail, the heathen Kings, did lay 
In ashes, — there she riseth, and the light 
Gildeth her towers. And here we have sat — how 

oft! — 

19 



KING ALFRED 

And talked of happy or of woful things 
That have befalFn my people. 

ASSER 

But to-day, 
Shall we not rather count the woful things 
As tares and darnel sown among the wheat, — 
Nay, as the ills that being outlived are good, — - 
And talk henceforth of happy things alone ? 
Such as that famous pleasantry of thine. 
When Hasting with his ships lay in the Lea, 
And thou did'st lure the stream out of his 
course 

Alfred 
Out of his ancient bed ! 

AssER 

His well-loved bed ! 

Alfred 

And brought him through strange byways to the 

Thames 

20 



KING ALFRED 

ASSER 

And left the Northman's navy high and dry. 

Alfred 

Yea, bishop, 't was a goodly jest. But Thought 

Needeth no spur to bid him carry me 

Far unto rearward of the time whereof 

Thou speakest ; and when sleep is rife with dreams, 

Oft in old warfare am I tossed anew. 

Then shapes come wandering from my battlefields. 

And ruthless Kings sail out of Heathendom, 

Whose keels were the swift ploughshares of the 

sea. 
Who tilled not earth, save with the harrow of 

war. 
Again the Dane meets me in truce, again 
Swears on his arms, and on the holy ring 
Makes covenant, pledging him to go in peace 
From out my realm that he so sore had bruised, 
And I again am fooled and he forsworn. 
And now I lurk in thickets, fade from sight 
In the rank steaming marsh, am lost to men 
Amid the tusks and antlers of the brake, 
A hunted hunter, nameless, on the isle 
Of hiding; and there cometh thither, — borne, 

21 



KING ALFRED 

/ 

It well might seem, on some lone heron's 

wing, — 
Word of the gladsome slaying of Ubba, amidst 
His hungry sea-wolves, nigh the hungry sea 
That clangs on northern Devon ; and there falls 
Into our hands that thing of sorcery, made 
In likeness of their fabled Odin's bird. 
The Raven War-flag, woven to the sound 
Of old enchantments in one Christless noon 
By the three daughters born to Lodbrok, him 
Of thrice dread name and doom, whom snakes 

devoured. 
Yea, and at times, swept in a hurtling dream. 
Again I smite the host at Ethandune, 
And drive them flying before me to their hold. 
With crash of battle-axe through scalp and skull. 
And hewing of great limbs as boughs lopped off 
When thunder hurls him on the cringing weald. 

ASSER 

Too much the memory stirs thy frame. 

Alfred 

And yet 
The Northman's joy in battle for battle's sake 

22 



KING ALFRED 

Was never mine ! Nor was I of that stuff 
The tamers and subduers of the earth 
Are made of. I had turned with a sick soul 
From their red havoc; from things and deeds 

whereat 
Warriors like Alexander when he trode 
On Persia, boasting him begotten of Jove, — 
Or Genseric — or the great Hamilcar's sons — 
Or Shalmaneser and Sargon in their pride, — 
Would with a smile have gazed: the sack of 

towns ; 
The spear thrust through the tender breast of 

babes ; 
And deeds I name not, but which they that sailed 
Against me — as the gleeman singeth it. 
Over the gannet's bath and whale's domain — 
Held lighter than the moulted feather a gull 
Gives to the wind, and as the things of nought 
That in their sum were glory and conqueror's 

fame. 
I ever looked beyond the sword-mown field 
To other harvest. For this is my realm. 
Which I but hold in fief and vassalage 
From One more mighty, of more ancient throne, 
A King's most King-like, most King-worthy toil 
Begins, not ends, when he hath builded him 

23 



KING ALFRED 

A bulwark 'gainst his foes. Then comes the 

task 
Of rearing for his people such a house 
That they within, for fiery love of it. 
Shall leap as a lion if enemy threat their door. 
And being athirst to see this realm of mine. 
This house and mansion that my hands have 

reared. 
Full of fair things, I sent to richer lands 
For what mine own was poor in, bearing thence 
Much honourable booty, and chief of all. 
Their wisdom, as set forth in script and scroll ; 
With divers other noble spoils of peace. 
For I did grieve to think how these rough coasts. 
That all too often have let in the foe. 
Should be so apt at keeping out the friend. 
Him that hath gifts for us, right worthy word 
And highborn thought ; or skill to raise aloft 
Minsters that usher into heaven the mind ; 
Or music, of such sort that while it peals 
In a man's breast, no baseness there can live. 
And greatly had it pleased me to have seen 
My people hotter in the love of song. 
And of that sweetest craft of song-making ; 
For they are come of them that dearly prized 
The word of the skilled makers, those old chants 

24 



KING ALFRED 

Our pagan fathers graved in runes, on what 
They in their darkness held the sacred beech. 
Perhaps another age shall more abound 
In song- fruit, when perhaps another King 
Shall have less lust of it than I. Howbeit, 
I leave my people not unfed in mind, 
Whom pinched I found, and lean ; and I bequeath 
A land healed of her wounds : where pillage 

was. 
Is tillage, and the fruit is sweet, the flower 
Is fair. But pray thou that there come not back 
The trampler of my orchard and my field. 
To fill the wheel-tracks of his wain with blood. 

AssER 

King, in my land, beyond the Severn sea. 

They tell of one, a soothsayer, that lived. 

As I conceive, betwixt that time when Rome 

Called hence the legions, and the days when sat 

Theodoric at Ravenna with his Goths ; 

And of this sage, or wizard, whom they name 

Merlin, 'tis written that he prophesied 

Of thee — " T^he north wind shall against him rise^ 

And blight his flowers^ the west wind' s fosterlings!^ 

The dark word was fulfilled : the north wind came 

25 



KING ALFRED 

And snatched away thy blooms. Now is he 

stayed ; 
Now hast thou set a bound to the north wind. 
Comfort thee, then, and be of a glad heart. 
For He is on thy side who was of old 
On Hezekiah's, when Sennacherib's host 
With thunder of chariots was come up against 
Judah, and by the mouth of Amoz' son 
The Lord spake, saying, " I will put My hook 
In his nostrils, and My bridle in his lips. 
And I will turn him back by the way he came." 

[^ minstrel is heard singing^ 

Forth unto warfare 
Rode they and strode they, 
Lordly and low-born, 
Etheling and hind. 

There, by the oakwood. 
Hewed they the heathen 
The north wind's brood, whose 
Nest was the sea. 

There, as a reed-bed 
In west wind rustling, 
Shivered the fear-swept 
Hearts of the foe. 
26 



KING ALFRED 

Now were their wounded 
Weary and war-sad. 
Kings with their kindred 
From battle-stead borne. 

Now were their spear-men 
Taken and spared not : 
Death-sickle reaped them : 
Swift fell the swathes. 

Lagged not the ravens. 
Flying to flesh-fare : 
Blithe came the war-kites. 
Glad the grey wolves. 

Drinkless and dry-lipped 
Had earth been at dayspring : 
Slaughter-cup slaked her. 
Long ere the eve. 

Alfred 

There, Asser, sang the sword. Nor is it for me. 
Who all my life have known no peace but such 
As ever listens for the step of war. 
To call that voice unholy. Hatred, too. 
And rage, are paths God leads us by, to ends 

27 



KING ALFRED 

We understand not. . . . But the day burns 

low. 
And the light fadeth upon turret and spire. 
Bidest thou here to-morrow ? 



AssER 

I depart 
To Sherborne, thy fair town that climbs about 
Its minster, where my pastoral staff now lacks 
The shepherd. There thy brother Ethelbert 
Awaiteth resurrection with the just. 



Alfred 
There, also, lieth another of my house ■ 



Asser 
Less worthy to have been of Egbert's seed. 

Alfred 

His sins were great ; but let him rest in 

peace . . . 
It may be we shall talk not here again. 

28 



KING ALFRED 

ASSER 

It may be. For the time is not far off — 
Wherefore should I dissemble at this hour ? — • 
When from the prison of the body thou 
Shalt be delivered ; and shalt give to earth 
That which from earth thou hadst ; and yield to 

God 
That which thou hadst indeed from God alone. 

Alfred 

Friend, thou didst ever serve me faithfully : 
So serve thou him that ruleth when I cease, 
Edward my son. 

[^ strange light suffuses the chamber. Alfred 
sinks on his knees.^ 

Behold, I see him great 
And mighty, at his feet submitted thrones . . . 
And after him another mightier yet . . . 
And then, dim forms at strife . . . beyond them, 

crown 
And crozier warring . . . and deeds of hell . . . 
and now 

29 



KING ALFRED 

Glory and power new-stablished . . . and again 
Blind welter, and the brood of dire misrule . . . 
A groaning people, a sundering realm. . . . Ah, 

Lord 
Of heaven ! in mercy show Thou me no more. 



30 



IN THE MIDST OF THE SEAS 



IN THE MIDST OF THE SEAS 

TO MY WIFE 



Let them not dream that they have known the 

ocean 
Who have but seen him where his locks are spread 
'Neath purple clifFs, on curving beaches golden ; 
Who have but wandered where his spume is shed 
On those dear Isles where thou and I were bred. 
Far Britain, and far lerne ; and who there. 
Dallying about his porch, have but beholden 
The fringes of his power, and skirts of his com- 
motion. 
And culled his voiceful shells, and plucked his 
ravelled hair. 



33 



IN THE MIDST OF THE SEAS 



II 

Beloved ! the life of one brief moon hath sped. 
No more than one brief moon, since thou and I 
To chilly England waved a warm good-bye. 
On glooming tides the great ship rode. 
The great ship with her great live load. 
The famous galleons of old Spain, 
The prows that were King Philip's pride, 
Had seemed, against her mighty side. 
Things of derision and disdain. 
Out from Mersey's flashing mouth. 
In a night of cloud and dolorous rain. 
Darkly, darkly bore she south. 
In a morn of rising wind and wave 
She rounded the isle of Old Unrest, 
And out into open Atlantic drave. 
Till all the rage of all the wild south-west 
Unmasked its thundering batteries 'gainst her 
populous breast. 



34 



IN THE MIDST OF THE SEAS 



III 

Many have sung of the terrors of Storm ; 

I will make me a song of its beauty, its graces of 

hue and form ; 
A song of the loveliness gotten of Power, 
Born of Rage in her blackest hour. 
When never a wave repeats another. 
But each is unlike his own twin brother, 
Each is himself from base to crown. 
Himself alone as he clambers up. 
Himself alone as he crashes down ; — 
When the whole sky drinks of the sea's mad cup. 
And the ship is thrilled to her quivering core. 
But amidst her pitching, amidst her rolling. 
Amidst the clangour and boom and roar. 
Is a Spirit of Beauty all-controlling ! 
For here in the thick of the blinding weather 
The great waves gather themselves together. 
Shake out their creases, compose their folds. 
As if each one knew that an eye beholds. 
And look ! there rises a shape of wonder, 

35 



IN THE MIDST OF THE SEAS 

A moving menace, a mount of gloom, 

But the moment ere he breaks asunder 

His forehead flames into sudden bloom, 

A burning rapture of nameless green. 

That never on earth or in heaven was seen. 

Never but where the midmost ocean 

Greets and embraces the tempest in primal divine 

emotion. 
And down in a vale of the sea, between 
Two roaring hills, is a wide smooth space. 
Where the foam that blanches the ocean's face 
Is woven in likeness of filmiest lace. 
Delicate, intricate, fairy-fine. 
Wrought by the master of pure design. 
Storm, the matchless artist, and lord of colour 

and line. 



3(> 



IN THE MIDST OF THE SEAS 



IV 

And what of the ship, the great brave vessel, 

Buffeted, howled at, patient, dumb, 

Built to withstand, and manned to wrestle. 

Fashioned to strive and to overcome ? 

She slackens her pace, her athlete speed. 

Like a bird that checks his ardent pinion ; 

She husbands her strength for the day of her 

need. 
But she thrusts right on through her salt 

dominion ; 
She staggers to port, she reels to starboard. 
But weathers the storm and lives it down ; 
And one chill morning beholds her harboured 
Under the lee of the great chill town. 



37 



IN THE MIDST OF THE SEAS 



New York ! a city like a chessboard made, 

Whereon the multitudinous pawns are swayed 

Neither by Knight nor puissant Queen, 

And bow not unto Castle or King, 

Yet hither and thither are moved as though they 

obeyed. 
Half loath, some power half seen. 
Some huge, voracious, hundred-headed thing, 
Armed with a million tentacles, whereby 
He hooks and holds his victims till they die. 
There did we tarry, dearest ! But one day 
There came on us a longing to go forth. 
No matter whither, so 't were far away ! 
Then from the snarl and bite of the sharp North 
To Florida's sweet orange-flaming shore. 
Through forests and savannahs vast we sped. 
And found a sea so fair and strange, we said — 
" We have but dreamed of splendour heretofore." 
For all the sky-line was an emerald ring 
Of such deep glow as baulks imagining; 

38 



IN THE MIDST OF THE SEAS 

And all the tide within it, streak on streak. 

Was one extravagant revel and freak 

Of amber and amethyst, azure and smouldering 

red. 
With every hue that is the child of these 
Dancing at noon on the fantastic seas. 



39 



IN THE MIDST OF THE SEAS 



VI 

So for a little while we roamed 

In a golden, gorgeous land o'erdomed 

With throbbing and impassioned skies ; 

A palmy land of dusky faces 

Meek before the mastering races — 

Ebony faces and ivory teeth, 

And liquid, kindly, patient eyes. 

With laughter lurking underneath. 

Then we took ship and landed here 

In old Havana. The old year. 

Sinking fast, hath not yet died. 

And here we have spent our Christmastide, 

And once in a while can just remember 

It is not August, but December. 

And here last night (Canst thou believe 

That five days hence 'twill be New Year's 

Eve?) 
Here, in this Yule of flaming weather. 
Hotter than solstice on English heather. 
There broke from out the nfathomed sky 

40 



IN THE MIDST OF THE SEAS 

Lightning such as thou and I 

Never beheld unsheathed in the fervour of mid- 

All night long, with many an elvish antic, 

Violet fire lit up the dazzled land ; 

All this morn the weight of all the Atlantic 

Fell in thunder on the coral strand. 

Come — for not yet subsides the mighty roar: 

Come — the whole sea invites us to the shore. 



41 



IN THE MIDST OF THE SEAS 



VII 

Ah, dear one ! can it be 

That thou and I have eaten of that herb 

Whereof 'tis writ that whosoever tastes 

Can ne'er again his lust of wandering curb. 

But day and night he hastes 

From sea to land, and on from land to sea. 

With vain desires that beckon and perturb 

His heart unrestingly ? 

Nay, we have roved just far enough to know 

That we possess too little wealth to rove. 

Being poor in lucre, though 

Exceeding rich in love. 

Yet travel hath taught us lessons we scarce had 

learned in repose ; 
Our friends have been proven our friends, and 

our foes have been proven our foes. 
And having seen and pondered much, some 

visions we surrender. 
And return a little weary, for a little taste of ease, 

42 



IN THE MIDST OF THE SEAS 

From tempest and from hurricane, and a land of 

light and splendour, 
And the odorous thrones of summer in the midst 

of the seas. 

Vedado, Havana, Cuba, December 1909 



43 



THE THREATENED TOWERS 



THE THREATENED TOWERS 

We built them not of lath and mud. 

We based them not on sand. 
A bulwark 'gainst the fitful flood. 

To-day their ramparts stand. 

Think you we reared them long ago 

For others to decree 
Their far-resounding overthrow 

Into the unknown sea ? 

We shall not pull the fabric down 

By rude command of those 
Who hold as nought this realm's renown. 

And vaunt themselves our foes. 

Nay, if we did in truth desire 
That what we built should fall. 

Were theirs the voice to bid us fire 
The roof, and mine the wall ? 

47 



THE THREATENED TOWERS 

Let the wild wave, that would submerge 
All ancient things and great, 

With hoarse and ineffectual surge 
Break on the towers of State. 

The ages, pondering at their toil. 
Welded this stone and lime. 

And no rash hands of haste shall foil 
The slow, wise thoughts of Time. 



48 



RECENT POETRY 



THE COMPLETE WORKS OF 

WILLIAM WATSON 

UNIFORM EDITION. 3 vols. Cloth. i2mo. 
^4.00 net per set. Postage 25 cents. Half 
Morocco. ^12.00 net. Postage 25 cents. 
Sold separately as follows 

POEMS. 2 vols. ^2.50 net. Half Morocco, ^7.50 net. 
Photogravure Portrait. Postage and packing 20 cents. 

The lover of poetry cannot fall to rejoice in this handsome edition. — Philadelphia Press. 
A glow of inspiration that merits better than that of any living poet the high adjective, 
Vergilian. — New York Evening Post. 

Work which will live, one may venture to say, as long as the language. — Philadelphia 
Public Ledger. 

NEW POEMS. ^1.50 net. Half Morocco, 1^5.00 net. 
Postage and packing 12 cents. 

Contains "On Hearing Samaroff Play," "Vivisection," "Leopold of 
Belgium," " To Richard Watson Gilder," " To the Invincible Republic," 
" Sonnets to Miranda," and " The Woman With the Serpent's Tongue." 

" To the Invincible Republic " is full of a generous and admiring appreciation. All of 
these poems are explicit, strong, and interesting. — New York Sun. 

Times — William Watson is, above all things, an artist who is proud of his calling and 
conscientious in every syllable that he writes. To appreciate his work yoM must take it as a 
whole, for he is in line with the high priests of poetry, reared, like Ion, in the shadow of the 
Delphic presences and memories, and weighing every word of his utterance before it is given 
to the world. 

Ath€n(zufn — His poetry is a " criticism of life," and, viewed as such, it is magnificent 
in its lucidity, its elegance, its dignity. . . . We revere and admire Mr. Watson's pursuit 
of a splendid ideal ; and we are sure that his artistic self-mastery will be rewarded by a 
secure place in the ranks of our poets. . . . We may express our belief that Mr. Watson 
will keep his high and honorable station when many showier but shallower reputations have 
withered away, and must figure in any representative anthology of English ijoetry. . . . 
"Wordsworth's Grave" is, in our judgment, Mr. Watson's masterpiece ... its music is 
graver and deeper, its language is purer and clearer, than the frigid droning and fugitive 
beauties of the ** Elegy in a Country Churchyard." 

Bookman — From the very first in these columns we have pleaded by sober argument, 
not by hysterical praise, Mr. Watson's right to the foremost place among our living poets. 
The book is a collection of works of art like a cabinet of gems. 

Spectator — The two volumes will be joyfully welcomed by the poet's numerous ad- 
mirers. There is a pleasure in the possession of a complete edition of a great writer's 
works. . . . We must apologize for quoting so copiously, but the book is so full of beautiful 
things that in his pleasure at seeing them all together the critic is irresistibly tempted to 
take them out and remind his readers of them separately. 



KING ALFRED'S JEWEL 

THIRD EDITION 
By KATRIN a TRASK. Author of <* Night and Morning,' * " Mors 
et Victoria,*' etc. Cloth. 12mo. $1.25 net. Postage 10 cents. With 
Colored Frontispiece reproducing the Jewel now at Oxford. 

The English speaking world has waited a thousand years for a 
worthy dramatic impersonation of King Alfred. And here it is. . . . 
The play will stand not alone upon the grateful response it wins from 
the English national heart, but as a work of art. . . . The author is 
supremely a poet, the master of metaphor not less than of melody. . . . 
It is a play not only to be read but to be acted. . . . This vivid drama 
is not cast in the conventional classic mould. It is distinctly and 
wholly English in spirit and form, and intensely modern — but breath- 
ing the air of morning, of springtime, of fresh adventure. — Henry 
Mills Alden, The New York Times Saturday Review, 

King Alfred's noble and vigorous character is limned» with great 
skill, while Elfreda, a graceful and innocent maiden, flits through the 
play like a woodland fairy. — The Glasgow Evening News, Scotland. 

The living Alfred lives in this gracious play, for the author has 
fashioned his great spirit out of the mist of time. — James Douglas, 
Th4 Star^ London. 



ARTHUR SYMONS 

POEMS 

A Collected Edition of the Poet's v^ork, issued in two volumes, 
with a Photogravure Portrait as Frontispiece. 8vo. ^3.00 »^/. Post- 
age 24 cents. Half morocco, ;gio.oo net. 

THE FOOL OF THE WORLD AND OTHER 
POEMS 

i2mo. ;Ji.So net. Postage 15 cents. Half morocco, I5.00 net. 

Stands at the head of all British poets of his generation. — New 
York Evening Post. 
One of the truest poets that modem England owns. — Bookman, 



THE POEMS OF ERNEST DOWSON 

Illustrations and a Cover-design by Aubrey Beardsley. An Introductory Memoir 
by Arthur Symons, and a Portrait. i2mo. $1.^0 net. Half morocco, ;j54. 00. 
Postage 10 cents. 

Belongs to the class that Rossetti does, with a touch of Herrick, and something which 
is Dowson, and Dowson alone. — Dr. Talcott Williams in Book News. 

POEMS OF ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER 
BENSON. 

Cloth. i2mo. ^1.50 net. Postage 12 cents. 

In this volume we have a welcome gathering together of the principal poems issued by 
Mr. Arthur Christopher Benson during the past sixteen years. ... In this new form 
his poems should make new friends. — London Daily Telegraph. 

CARMINA. By Thomas A. Daly. 

Cloth. i2mo. $1.00 net. Postage 10 cents. 

A collection of poems by this well-known author of Italian, Irish and American verse. 
The volume contains all of the most popular verses from " Canzoni,'* in addition to many 
new ones of equal appeal. 

NEW POEMS. By Richard Le Gallienne. 

Cloth. I2m0to $1.50. 

THE WIND AMONG THE REEDS. Poems 

By W. B. Yeats. i2mo. $i,^$net. Half morocco, {4. 00. Postage lo cents. 
The genuine spirit of Irish antiquity and Irish folk lore — the very spirit of the myth- 
makers is in him. — Mr. William Archer. 

THE RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM 

Cloth, 50 cents net ; Leather, 75 cents net. Postage 4 cents. 

Rendered into English verse by Edward Fitz Gerald. With 9 illustrations. 



THE ROSARY AND OTHER POEMS 

By Robert Cameron Rogers. i2mo. jii.25 net. Half morocco, ^^4.00. 

Postage fo cents. 

A Landorian touch of divine simplicity. — The Dial. 



The Works of Laurence Hope 



INDIA'S LOVE LYRICS, including " The 
Garden of Kama." 

i2mo. $1.50 net. Postage i o cents. Half morocco, 
^4.00 net. 



STARS OF THE DESERT: Poems. 

i2mo. $1.50 net. Postage i o cents. Half morocco, 
$4.00 net. 

LAST POEMS. 

Translations from the **Book of Indian Love." 
i2mo. $1.50 net. Postage i o cents. Half morocco, 
^4.00 net. 



COMPLETE WORKS. 

Uniform Edition. 3 volumes. In box. 

INDIA'S LOVE LYRICS. 
STARS OF THE DESERT. 
LAST POEMS. 

Cloth, $4. 50 net. Postage 35 cents. Half morocco, 
$12.00 net. Postage 50 cents. 



SONGS FROM THE GARDEN OF 
KAMA. 

Illustrated from photographs by Mrs. Eardsley 
Wilmot. Cloth. 4to. $3.00 net. Postage 1 5 cents. 



THE WORKS OF FRANCIS THOMPSON 

POEMS. Square i2mo. $i»7S net. Postage lo cents. 

SISTER SONGS: An Offering to Two Sisters. With Frontispiece 
by Laurence Housman. Square i2mo. j5i.75 net. Postage 
lo cents. 

NEW POEMS. Cloth. Square i2mo. $1.75 net. Postage 10 cents. 

THE HOUND OF HEAVEN. Special Edition. i6mo. 50 cents 
net. Postage 5 cents. (Also included in ** Poems.'*) 

SELECTED POEMS. Cloth. i6mo. ^1.50 net. Postage 10 cents. 

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 

THE POEMS OF. Edited with an Introduction by Ernest Hart- 
ley Coleridge, and numerous Illustrations by Gerald Metcalfe. 
8vo. $3.50 net. Postage extra. The only complete, definitive, 
illustrated edition of the poems of the author of " Christabel," 
** The Ancient Mariner,*' etc. Several hitherto unpublished poems 
are included in this edition. 



A. E. HOUSMAN 

A SHROPSHIRE LAD. New Edition. Cloth. i6mo. Ji.oo net 
Postage 4 cents. Half morocco, ^3.00 net 5 postage 5 cents. 



SAPPHO 

Memoir, Text, Selected Renderings, and a Literal Translation by Henry 
Thornton Wharton. Illustrated in Photogravure. New Edition. 
|2-oo net. Postage 10 cents. 



RECENT POETRY 



SELECTED POEMS OF 

JOHN DAVIDSON 

i2mo 
Leather, $1.50 net Cloth, $1.25 net 

ne Nation — An uncommonly masculine volume. 

Chicago Record-Herald — What every admirer of this virile poet de- 
sires, a brief summary of his important work from which an adequate 
conception of his style and versatility can be obtained. 

Athenaum — There is urgent need for a collected edition of Mr. 
Davidson's poems and plays. The volume and variety of his poetry 
ought to win for it wider acceptance. It is indeed curious that poetry so 
splendid as Mr. Davidson's should fail to get fuller recognition. There 
are many aspects of his genius which ought to make his work popular 
in the best sense of the word. He has almost invented the modern ballad. 
... He handles the metre with masterly skill, filling it with imagina- 
tive life and power. 

Times — There are not more than two or three living writers of Eng- 
lish verse out of whose poems so good a selection could be made. The 
poems in the selection are not only positive — they are visible. 

Literary World — We count ourselves among those to whom Mr. 
Davidson has made himself indispensable. 

Daily Mail — Mr. Davidson is our most individual singer. His 
variety is as surprising as his virility of diction and thought. 

St. Jameses Ga%ette — This volume may serve as an introduction to a 
poet of noble and distinctive utterance. 

Neiv Age — The book contains much that Mr. Davidson's warmest 
admirers would best wish to remember him by. There is a subtle charm 
about these poems which eludes definition, which defies analysis. 

T, P.'/ Weekly — Mr. Davidson is one of the most individual of living 
poets ; he has a rare lyrical faculty. 

Morning Post — Mr. Davidson is as true a poet as we have now 
among us ... he has included nothing that we do not admire. 

Daily Graphic — This delightful volume. 

Dundee Ad^vertiser — Its poetry gives out a masterful note. . . . Mr. 
Davidson's poem pictures. 



THE POETRY OF STEPHEN PHILLIPS 

PAOLO AND FRANCESCA: A Tragedy in Four 

Acts. By Stephen Phillips. New Edition with Photogravure 
Frontispiece after the painting by G. F. Watts, R. A. 

i2mo Twelfth Edition $1.25 net 

New York Times — Nothing finer has come to us from an English pen in the way of a 
poetic and literary play since the appearance of Taylor's " Philip van Artevelde." 

Brooklyn Daily Eagle— It is not too much to say that " Paolo and Francesca " is the 
most important example of English dramatic poetry that has appeared since Browning died. 

Philadelphia Press — " Paolo and Francesca " has beauty, passion, and power. . . . 
The poem deserves a wide reading on account of its intrinsic merit and interest. 

HEROD : A Tragedy. By Stephen Phillips. 

i2mo Twenty-First Thousand $1.25 net 

Times — Here, then, is a noble work of dramatic imagination dealing greatly with great 
passions ; multicolored and exquisitely musical. Mr. Stephen Phillips is not only a poet, but 
that still rarer thing, a dramatic poet. 

Mr. William Archer (in The JVorlcf) — The elder Dumas speaking with the voice of 
Milton. 

Aihemeum — Not unworthy of the author of *' The Duchess of Malfi.** 

POEMS. By Stephen Phillips. Including '* Marpcssa " and 
"Christ in Hades." 

i2mo Thirteenth Edition $1.25 net 

Times — Mr. Phillips is a poet, one of the half dozen men of the younger generation, 
whose writings contain the indefinable quality which makes for permanence. 

Spectator — In his new volume Mr. Stephen Phillips more than sustains the promise 
made by his "Christ in Hades"; here is real poetic achievement — the veritable gold of 
song. 

Literature — No such remarkable book of verse as this has appeared for several years. 

MARPESSA. By Stephen Phillips. With Illustrations by 
Philip Connard. 

Cloth, 50 cents net Leather, 75 cents net 

William Dean Howklls — Tennyson at his age had not done better. 

NEW POEMS. Including "lolc : A Tragedy in One Act ** ; 

**Launcelot and Guinevere,*' ** Endymion," and many other 
hitherto unpublished poems. 

Z2mo. Cloth, $1.25 net. Half mor., $4.00 net. Postage 10 tts. 



RECENT POETRY 



A SHROPSHIRE LAD. By A. E. Housman. Ne^ 
Edition, i2mo. Cloth, $i.oo net. Half morocco, 
$3.00 net. Postage 5 cents. 

'Hit Suttf NtwT»rk — '•" Mr. Housman's verse has a very rare charm, due to 
Its blending of a subdued and poignant sadness with the old pagan glorification 
of the beauty and the sacredness of youth. ^* 

Chap Book — ''The best in ' A Shropshire Lad' is altogether memorable; 
you cannot shake it off or quote it awry." 

Brooklyn Eagle — " Something to please on every page." 

THE FOOL OF THE WORLD, AND OTHER POEMS. 

By Arthur Symons. i2mo. $1.50 net. Half 
morocco, $5.00 net. Postage 15 cents. 

New York Evening Post — "Stands at the head of all British poets of his 
generation." 
Bookman — " One of the truest poets that modern England owns.*' 

ACTION, AND OTHER POEMS. By John Erskine. 
izmo. $1.25 net. Postage i o cents. 

Providence Journal — " A sensitive feeling for rhythm and the ability to 
select intuitively the right word." 

THE DAYS THAT PASS. By Helen Huntington. 
i2mo. $1.25 net. Half morocco, J4. 00 net. Postage 
5 cents. 

Louisville Courier- Journal — "The verses ring with the deep strength of 
Idealized love and higher ambition ungratified but none the less inspiring." 

NIGHT AND MORNING. By Katrina Trask. 
i2mo. Cloth, ^1.25 net. Postage 5 cents. Flexible 
leather, $z.oo net. Half morocco, ^4.00 net. 

'* a dramatic poem dealing with the modern problem of marriage in a most 
striking and original manner." 

New Tork Times — " An inspiring message to humanity, a noteworthy con- 
tribution to literature.*' 

THE SOUL'S PROGRESS, AND OTHER POEMS. 
By Louis V. Ledoux. i2mo. J1.25 net. Half mo- 
rocco, $4.00 net. Postage 10 cents. 

Boston Transcript — "The society for getting good out of little things, the 
cult which preaches that happiness is to be found anywhere and everywhere, 
have a prophet in Louis V. Ledoux." 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper pn 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxid( 
Treatment Date: May 2009 

PreservationTechnolot 

A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESER* 

111 Thnmeinn Park nrivo 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 

ftUQ SI «»*^ 



